


One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

by Romany



Category: Smallville
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Chaptered, F/M, Future Fic, Het, M/M, Slash, future fic for season six
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-11-28
Updated: 2006-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:18:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romany/pseuds/Romany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex gets what he wants. He should be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part 1

Lex found himself in his best tuxedo—white tie, of course—at one of Bruce's interminable charitable functions. The flight to Gotham had been nothing short of deplorable and even the excellent Glenfiddich that he swirled somewhat dejectedly before taking a careful sip did little to allay his mood.

Most of the other guests were Gotham City elite, with a few of the jet-set from Star City, Central City and Metropolis sprinkled in for elegant ambience. He was here as the Luthor heir and nothing more. Window dressing for the Wayne Charitable Trusts brochure.

Lionel had declined to attend, of course.

And although Lex had been itching to get out of the Smallville castle for several weeks, he wanted nothing more than to flee back there, to sit with Lana by the fire, the bassinet nearby. Her month long stay at the Davis Clinic had left her wrung out and dry, energy only for tiny Alex. She met every brush of Lex's fingers now with a shudder, wincing as if burned. "I just can't," she said. "Give me time."

He gave her time, every tick, every ringing of the hour from the grandiose grandfather clock and still she latched shut the door to the nursery, locking herself and little Alex inside, locking him out.

All lullabies and nursery rhymes and his footsteps echoing as he paced the halls until he found dawn breaking through the fragmented windows of his office, himself facedown on the couch, the open bottle of scotch tipped and empty on the parquet floor.

"You can't keep doing this," she said as she passed by the door, baby in her arms. "We need you."

"Do you?" he replied, straining for an upright position. But he spoke to no one, her footsteps grim and distant.

The child didn't even resemble him. He said as much aloud one evening, tongue liberal with malt and Highland peat. Clark had no doubt planted a cuckoo's egg in the not so secure Luthor nest. His security tapes had shown Smallville's Adonis breaking his ban more than once, entering unwanted and unbidden. And although that particular tape had been missing, Lex only had to close his eyes and see Lana's legs wrap around that strong and golden back.

"You could have at least let me watch," he said.

"How could you say such a thing," she said, looking away. "How could you even think it."

But think of it, he did. Alone in his master suite, hand wrapped around his cock, hips rising off the bed, he thought of Clark licking her, loving her, entering her while saying, "I don't care whose ring it is, Lana, it's always been you." He came in his hand, as she must have come against that enviable body. "Clark," he said softly, "how could you do this to me?"

But one sober glance at the boy told him that Clark couldn't have fathered such a pitiful and mewling thing.

"It's just colic, Lex," she said. "It's normal."

No, Clark, by now, was most likely inseminating Chloe or Lois, perhaps both. And that picture led to another night of Lex fucking his fist. Clark would father strong children, fit for the fields, golden and earthy and silent except for laughter. Rosy cheeked and apple strong.

Clark Kent, sultan of Smallville, had many women, a harem of smiles and spread legs, and Lex had picked—had stolen—the wrong one.

"You want to know what he's like, Lex?" she screamed one night. "Go fuck him yourself."

He poured himself another drink, almost missing the glass. He turned and smiled. "I tried," he said. "Quite often, actually. And if I'd succeeded, you wouldn't be the one sitting here judging me, now would you?"

She let out one small laugh, "He's not dead. Go for it. He might even forgive you." And the baby monitor squawked. "I'm too busy at the moment to even think about forgiveness."

Car keys in hand, he found himself barrelling down that dusty road to the Kent farm not five minutes later. What he would do, what he would say once he arrived there, Lex didn't have a clue.

But when he arrived, all the buildings were dark. Senator Kent would be in Topeka. Clark would be with either Lois and Oliver in Metropolis or with Chloe and Jimmy in Metropolis. Perhaps all five of them were a tangle of limbs in the apartment above the Talon here in Smallville. Clark not the odd man out, but rather the odd man in. What would be laughably sordid with anyone else, Clark could make innocent again and possible.

He couldn't bring himself to turn the car around to find out for certain. And so he entered the barn, climbed those stairs to an empty loft. He sat for some time on that horrendous couch staring past that telescope towards a lonely field of stars.

Some time later, minutes or hours, the measurements of man meaningless, he climbed into that hammock. Blanketless, he curled into himself and fell asleep.

"Lex, what are you doing here?" Clark's voice and dawn, both strong and unwelcome. Lex refused to open his eyes.

"Lex, hey, you need to get up. Mi casa is not your casa. You need to go home."

Lex struggled, unelegant, pathetic and upwards, to find Clark peering at him, wary. "Clark," he said and nothing else.

"I've got coffee. You look like you could use it." He held out a cup. Lex stood and silently accepted it. Apparently, Clark could still feel pity for him. Lex took a sip and it was horrible, bitter and overbrewed. "Don't look at me," Clark said with a ghost of a grin, "Lois made it."

Ah, so it was Lois who graced the Kent kitchen this morning. Lex couldn't help but summon up the image of Clark sweeping off the tabletop, pushing her back onto it. "Come on, Kent, show me what you've got," she must have said while the coffee burned. Angry and needful fucking, no gentleness, bruises from his hands on her thighs.

Lex didn't think it was possible to hate anyone more.

"Have you fucked those tits yet?" he said, swallowing the last of the coffee down with a laugh.

"What?" Clark said, astonishment opening up that sinful, lying mouth. "Lex, are you drunk? She's got a boyfriend. What's the matter with you?" And he straightened up, mouth settling into a grim line. "I respect boundaries." Unlike certain people, he didn't say. But that statement was there in the crossing of his arms, the set of his shoulders. "Besides, my sex life is none of your business."

But Clark's sex life was his business, should have been his business, should have been his.

"My apologies, Clark. That was unbelievably crass of me." He set the cup down and straightened out his coat. "I'd best be going."

He was halfway down the stairs when Clark called out, "Hey, Lex, let me drive you home."

If he had any sort of pride left, he would have kept going. But he stopped, turned and handed Clark his keys, walked wordlessly towards his Porsche and got in the passenger side.

Lois walked out the door of the farmhouse, stood on the porch. "Smallville, what's going on?"

Yes, it was possible to hate someone more, Lex decided, as he turned his face from the window.

"I'm just taking him home, Lois. Don't worry, I'll be back in a bit," Clark said as he opened the driver's door.

Lex caught her worried wave in the rearview mirror as Clark peeled out the driveway.

They drove in silence. Lex could feel the questions parading across Clark's face until they reached his mouth. "Lex, you've got a wife and kid now. Really, you should be more responsible."

"I think we're beyond the advice stage of our relationship, Clark. I don't want to hear it," he said.

Clark laughed, bitter as Lois's coffee. "What relationship? Lex, sometimes...sometimes, I just don't get you."

"There's nothing to get, Clark. Why don't you just drive?" he said, gazing at rushing fields and mile markers.

Clark stepped on the brakes, pulled over and cut the engine. He turned to face him, hands almost knuckle-white on the wheel. "Look, I'm not the one you come to with this sort of thing. Not anymore. You've got problems with your marriage? Fine. Go see a counselor. Maybe in a few years, I can deal with the fact that you married my girlfriend. But. Not. Now." He started up the engine again, pulled back onto the road.

"You're the one who let her go," Lex whispered.

Clark slammed on the brakes again, almost spun out a piece of fine German engineering, swung the wheel back around and pulled over. He rested his head against the wheel, horn blaring. A cloud of birds rose from the near field. "You're a freaking snake in the grass, you know that?" He breathed once, twice, deep and long, head still against the wheel. "Our lives would have been perfectly fine without you."

"Oh really, Clark? Without me there would have been no lies, no pain in Lana's life? The two of you would have had a storybook ending? How stupid do you think I am? Hate me, fine. But never, never insult my intelligence." He unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door, and walked down the road.

Clark caught up with him before he'd made ten strides, spun him around. "Lex, what do you want from me?"

Lex looked into those green eyes full of hate and frustration and pity and...something else, so tenuous, but there. "All you ever had to do was say yes. Just once, Clark. Just once."

With eyes searching and confused and still angry, Clark said, "To what, Lex? Are we even having the same conversation?"

So simple to lean up and kiss him, nothing to lose if he did. And so Lex did exactly that, leaned up and met those lips that had been so unreachable for years. Almost chaste, a brush only.

"Yes to anything, Clark. My questions, my friendship. This." And he leaned up again, another soft kiss.

Clark pulled back but not away and said, "Whatever this is, Lex, we're not doing it. I'm not your escape route."

Lex ran the back of his hand against Clark's cheek. "No, you're not. And yes, we are." He took both of Clark's hands in his and pulled him into the field.

He had never been able to go to that mountain, but now that mountain came to him, an arm's length away and crashing. All vertigo and reeling upon the ground. Lex had never met his own destruction so gladly.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex gets what he wants. He should be happy.

Somewhere, a bird complained in the brush. His coat hot and binding, he attempted breath underneath some two-hundred pounds of still confused man. His hands bound by the wrist above his head with one large hand. The distance between two points met here, yards away from an abandoned car and hidden in the yellowing grass. No choice but to meet rough lips and breathe into them until a breath, a sigh, answered him: acquiescence and life and wonder and need. Lex just thrust up and rolled until he found himself above and flinging his coat aside.

"Lex..." Clark said, as his hands brushed his back.

"Shhhh..." he replied, not wanting words. Words would become questions and doubts, a necessary distance, the clothing of pain. And here, that distance didn't exist, just his hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt as his mouth met neck and jaw and lips.

Shirt finally open, he rucked up Clark's until skin lay against skin. No time for lingering or thought. He bucked down and lifted away just enough to find buttons and zippers, undo them, until their two hard cocks were firm in his hand. Just slight movement and how they fit and Clark's eyes half-lidded but open, so wanton and wonderful beneath.

This might be all they could have so Lex made no attempt to slither down and take him in his mouth, no attempt to rise and place himself in Clark's, their tongues busy with skin and mouth and enough. Enough that Clark didn't thrust him away but merely up into his hand, his guiding hand.

And here, if he could listen beyond rising breath, the sound of tongue and teeth and skin, Lex would hear crickets and birds and creatures of the ground. Off in the distance, a stream of water, tributary of the very river where their bodies first met, cried against the stones' refusal of it. Just time and water and his heart carving a journey through the land towards a distant sea. Rush and rising, erosion, the rhythm of blood through his four-chambered heart and Clark's name in each and every one.

"Clark..." Too soon, too soon, his body only human, Lex came and fluttered down, muttering the only word, the only name left to him, and it was not his own.

But Clark came soon after, hips rising one last time, following, always knowing where to find him. "Lex..." he said as he settled back down to the ground, closing his eyes, retreating into bliss.

Aftershock and murmurs, hands still a caress, Lex lay upon him and didn't move to adjust himself to any point of comfort. His ear, pressed to Clark's chest, listened to the heart within it wind down into a steadier, gentler rhythm.

But time, not allowing for wastrels and stragglers, did not let Lex keep this moment. Clark opened his eyes, sighed and whispered, "Lex, what are we going to do?"

Head still against that broad chest, Lex laughed quietly and said, "I think we already did it, Clark."

"Yeah, I guess we did," he said, hands absently stroking Lex's back.

"It's called afterglow," Lex said as he shifted and looked into those amazing eyes. "Let's just enjoy it, Clark. While we can."

Pain replaced contentment in those eyes, shifting from green to blue and back again. "It's called cheating, Lex. It's also called a mistake," he said as he gently pushed Lex aside and he rolled away and up. He stood, pulling his boxers up, and rebuttoned his jeans. "Come on," he said, offering a hand. "I still need to take you home."

"Don't," Lex said when all he wanted to say was 'please' and pull Clark back down. He stood and zipped himself back up, picked up his coat. He closed his eyes and breathed in. They still reeked of sex. He rebuttoned his shirt, heedless of the mess, evidence of what they'd done and what he didn't regret.

And before he could catch it, "In a hurry to get back and fuck Lois?" flew out of his mouth.

Clark's eyes narrowed. "No, I'm in a hurry to get you back to your wife and child. Remember them, Lex?" And he stormed back to the shoulder of the road and the waiting car.

"Don't you dare get back in that car, Clark! You want to talk? Fine, let's talk. Now." 

Clark turned, angry, but didn't open the door. "Yeah, Lex, let's talk."

Lex caught up with him, stood just inches away, gazed up into that gorgeous face. "You want to know what the mistake is? The only mistake is that we didn't do this long ago." He leaned in and brushed those lips that had been passionate just a few yards away. "This isn't a one-time deal, Clark. There is no going back."

Clark laughed. "Just once, you said. God, Lex, you're such a liar."

"And you're not? Our whole relationship is built on lies, Clark. The only difference is that I don't care what you are anymore," he said.

Clark leaned against the car, crossed his arms. "Really? And what am I, Lex? I'd like to know."

He could say that he was just another meteor mutant, possessed abilities that Lex could still only guess. He could say that he was a god masquerading as a man, one that he tore down from a makeshift cross and held in his arms briefly. He could say that he was a liar and a hypocrite and a hero. But all of these were only partially true. "You're Clark," he finally said. "And I need you."

Clark relaxed and softened, arms falling to his side, repeating what he said in the field. "Lex, what are we going to do?"

Lex stepped into those arms, felt them close around him, embrace him. Once again, he listened to Clark's heart skitter and jump in his chest. "I don't know, Clark. We'll figure it out as we go." He could hear Clark's heart leap at his words and his own leapt to meet it.

Of all the keys in his possession, of all the doors that remained locked and needed to be opened, this embrace, this admission in a field of no particular destination would suffice. Would have to. For now.

Clark lifted his chin and kissed him. "Lex, we can't stay here. We've got people waiting for us."

And they could wait longer. Lex could pull Clark back into that field and beyond. Move into the distant trees and live like wild men on berries and each other. Let the world forget about them, abandon them as it had done so many times before.

"I know, Clark. Let's go," he said, stepping back and away.

Clark moved around to the driver's side and climbed in. Lex opened the passenger door and buckled his seatbelt. He placed a hand on that knee and smiled as Clark started the ignition, put the car into gear and pulled back onto the road. Destination, Lex's life and then Clark back to his: women and apologies and the field just a distant point, fading in the horizon.


End file.
